A Father's Love
by LadyPolly
Summary: The newsies remember their fathers.. Please read and review! Partially Revised
1. Jack Kelly

A/N: I don't know where this is going. This might be everything, or there could be continued inspiration as to what each newsie had been taught by his father's presence (or lack thereof) and his father's love towards him. Please tell me what you think. I'll even give you a homemade chocolate chip cookie. Baked fresh too! I don't own the Newsies, I'm not making any money off of this, I have none to be sued for, and I don't own any songs I may use either. Title: About A Father's Love By: LadyPolly ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Well mine taught me not to stave so I guess we both got an education." My own words had been echoin' in my mind all night. Echoin' back to the last night I saw my fadah.  
  
"Let me tell you a secret, About a father's love, A secret that my daddy said Was just between us, Daddies don't just love their children every now and then, It's a love without end, Amen"  
  
I don't remember my mudah, she died when I was just a kid, givin' birth ta my sistah. My sistah died a week later, leaving just my father and me.  
  
Dad taught me a lot before he got sent away. Most of all he taught me not to starve. He taught me that he'd always be there for me, maybe not in person, but in spirit. He was right; he's not here in person. But, every time I see Davey-boy with his family, especially his dad, I remember dad's lullaby.  
  
Nevah thought a guy who's gonna spend the rest of his life in prison would sing his son a lullaby, didja? The nights he wasn't up to singing, he'd talk about me and him goin' out west and starting a new life in Santa Fe. He'd tell me how the sky was bigger out there, and he got me my first cowboy hat (I still have it back at the LH). He taught me not to steal anything I didn't need, but if I was starving, steal food. Just don't get caught. He taught me about "improving" the truth too. Just don't get caught. His motto in life, it failed him, I won't let it fail me. I won't get caught.  
  
I remember the last night me an' dad spent together, before they came to get him, before I went to the refuge, when I was still known as Francis Sullivan. I was Francis Sullivan, Jr. I remember my father sobbing because he knew he would never be there for me again, at least not physically. He gave me his hat. It's the one I still wear today.  
  
With dad gone I had to steal food just to eat. Its what got me into the refuge. I got caught. It ain't never gonna happen again. I won't get caught again. I won't starve again.  
  
"Let me tell you a secret, About a father's love, A secret that my daddy said Was just between us, Daddies don't just love their children every now and then, It's a love without end, Amen" 


	2. Racetrack

To the totally awesome people who reviewed- THANX!!! If you have any ideas for me, just email me with them (please and thank you ahead of time). I plan on there being more coming from my friends Spot, Rae, Davey-boy, Denton and many others (Medda said she would sing for us if we needed her to), however it takes time to get all those unruly newsies (and newsie friends) organized =)  
  
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Me fadah tought me how to gamble. He used to take me to the Sheepshead Races, and let me pick a horse to bet on. It was me, me fadah, and me mudah every Sunday, rain or shine. Sunday was dadÕs day off from workin. He used ta groom the horses for this hoity-toity family that lived near Pulitzer.   
  
My fadah gave me his love of da horses, his love of da races, and his love of da cards. He tought me bout da cigars, and how to smoke dem too.  
  
Well he did, but then he went away. After me mudah got sick that is. There was nuttin anyone coulda done for her. She just died there in front of me and me dad.  
  
WasnÕt a week later dad left me, and I was stuck livin on the streets. I slept in alleys and scavenged food from the trash.   
  
That was til Cap found me and brought me home to the Newsboys Lodging House on Duane Street, and home to Mr. Kloppman. And IÕs been a newsie evah since. CarryinÕ the Banner. 


	3. Spot Conlon

A/N: I don*t own the newsies.. but.. if ya wanna give them to me.. etc the usual disclaimer.  
  
My father didn*t teach me much. No I take that back. He tought me about what I do NOT want to be.  
  
Pops was a womanizer who hurt my mother in everyway possible. When after I was born she could not have anymore children, he proceded to go father two more with his mistress who lived downstairs from us.  
  
I do NOT want to do that to my wife. I remember the hurt in mommaÕs eyes when she found out about Fast. I don*t ever want to see that hurt in SimoneÕs eyes. Ever.  
  
When he*d come home to find her doing anything other than cooking or cleaning (even in the middle of the night), he*d hit her. Hard. It is because of him I first leaned to fight. Momma*s screams still echo in my head. Pops tought me I never want to hear those screams again.  
  
I learned about drinking problems too. And how more money went towards his drinks than EVER went towards food for me and momma.   
  
I was a mommaÕs boy until the day my momma died. I saw, heard and felt the pain my momma felt because of my father. The most important thing Pops tought me is what being a man ISN*T.  
  
The men I look up to as my fathers tought me what it really means to be a man. Cap was there for me right after momma*s death. He just held me and let me cry. Pops woulda smacked me around and told me that men don*t cry.  
  
Kloppy tought me enough about cooking and cleaning and even sewing that now that I live out side of the LH I wonÕt starve to death, die from an attack of dust bunnies, or end up naked because all my clothes are torn. In short he tought me how to take care of my self.  
  
These two also tought me how to take responsibility for my own actions. But most importantly, the brotherhood of newsies tought me how the power of love and caring can win over the power pain can hold. 


	4. Rae Kelly

I never knew my real father. He didn't even find out about me until I was nearly 18 and he died shortly thereafter. But I was raised by a bunch of men who I think of as fathers. I was raised at the lodging house by Kloppy and   
Cap, who was the leader of the Manhattan newsies at the time. Of course   
some of the other guys are like fathers to me, but Kloppy and Cap and the   
ones I truly think of as my fathers.  
  
Cap was the one who found me on the doorstep. Cap wasn't sure about keeping   
me, but Kloppy convinced him to. From that day on it was me and Cap. Kloppy watched me during the day while Cap sold his papers and then when Cap got home he would take me up to the roof. He taught me about the stars, to enjoy nature, and to take time to watch the sunset. He also taught me not to be afraid of the dark. I know it sounds silly but I know a lot of the newsies who won't even sit on the doorstep by themselves after dark. Cap taught me to take care of myself at a young age. He didn't like the idea of me fighting... I'll come back to that in a moment. He taught me to sell papes when I was three. He used to tell me that I was way too grown up for my age. Goodness, I was waltzing by the time I was two, playing poker by the age of four and fighting almost as soon as I could walk.  
  
As I said before I was raised by a bunch of boys. Denton was a newsie long   
before he was a reporter and he is one of the ones that I think of as a father. He taught me to fight, against Cap's wishes, and he taught me to   
play poker, also against Cap's wishes...come to think of it, everything that   
he taught me to do he did against Cap's wishes, even though he and Cap were   
best friends.  
  
Kloppy... what can I say about Kloppy... he taught me so many things... I had   
cooking, cleaning and sewing lessons along with Spot and even Jack, but don't tell them that I told you that. Kloppy taught me to believe in myself   
and to dream big. He always told me "If you are going to dream, you may as   
well dream big." If it hadn't been for Kloppy I never would have met the   
guys that I now consider my brothers. Without him keeping me I never would   
have met Spot, Jack, Race, Blink, Mush and all the other guys.  
  
Kloppy, Cap, Denton, Spot, Jack, Race, Blink, Mush and all my other daddies and brothers taught me that family is not who your blood relatives are, family is those you love and care for. 


	5. Disclaimer

Thanks to Rae Kelly for beta reading Spot*s chapter.   
I must apologize for my oversight in awarding Rae credit for her own chapter. My bad.  
To the people who reviewed: You are awesome and deserve a cookie.  
  
Blanket Disclaimer for the rest of the story:   
I donÕt own the Newsies (duh I probably wouldnÕt be as broke as I am if I did- or as bored).  
Rae owns herself, Cap and Jecca. (Sorry if I missed someone)  
Fastdancer owns herself.   
Other ownership will be regarded as necessary.  
  
Remember IÕm just borrowing!!! 


	6. David Jacobs

A/N: I have no idea what is up with the O thingys where there should be apostrophes and quotation marks. I therefore blame it on my Ôputer. Thanks to all my reviewers. You can have a Peep if ya want one =) hehe pure sugar is good... But you have to earn your Peep, IÕm not gonna give just everyone some of my Peeps. To find out who Cap is, I suggest you read Rae Kelly's Story.   
  
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I know my childhood was completely different from most of the other newsies. Most of them started selling before the age of 10, some as early as 3 or 4. I didnÕt even think about becoming a newsboy until I was a teenager, and my father was hurt in a factory accident.   
  
My father worked, but he was always there for us. HeÕs always loved us, and so does our mother. (My parents still love Sarah, even if they donÕt know where she ran off to with Morris Delancy. But thatÕs another story.)  
  
My father has always been there helping me, and inspiring me to continue with the education he never got. He always taught me not to lie, not even to stretch the truth. So you can imagine my dismay when Jack told us the only way to sell papes was to Òimprove the truth.Ó  
  
I canÕt imagine what it would be like to have grown up in the LH with all the guys. I cannot see myself with no one but Kloppy and Jack to look up to, the way Spot and Rae do. And Cap too. But IÕve only heard stories of the ÒGreat and Wonderful NewsieÓ that taught Rae and Spot everything they know about being a Newsie. I heard he moved out west a few years before I joined the Newsies.   
  
I never told Jack this, but I heard him out on the fire escape that first night. I heard him talking about Santa Fe, and families and everything he said. But, I canÕt let him know. It would embarrass him too much. I know Cowboy is jealous of what Les and I have. I can see it in his eyes. Every time he sees my father, my whole family, he just drinks in the love he sees.  
  
It took PapaÕs accident, and me having to work to make me see how lucky Les and I are to always have our family, our blood family, there for us. To have had someone to teach us everything we know. To not have had the streets of New York City be our teacher. 


	7. Denton the Pape Man

Authors Note: YOU WILL REVIEW... well.. you will if you want to read anymore of this story.. hehe... my space bar is all sticky... hmm.... I cannot remember whether I told yaÕll to go read Rae KellyÕs Story to learn more about Cap or not... if I hadnÕt... well I just did sweeties... ItÕs been awhile since IÕve gotten the chance to update. Sorry about that, but things went crazy around here, and writing got shoved to the bottom of the To Do list.  
  
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I havenÕt always been a newspaper man. I used to be a newsie. And before that I was a little boy with two little brothers. It was because of my youngest brother that Dad tought me what I know. You see, like the city thrives on child labor, my brother thrived on the stories we could tell him of our day, the money me and Trent earned working odd jobs often went towards paying for BrentonÕs medicines and treatments.   
  
I grew up hearing the other children of our neighborhood laughing at Brenton. You see, Brenton could not walk. I said I had two little brothers. I was actually the middle child. Brenton was actually two years my senior, but by the age of four I was twice the size of him in all his six year old glory. When I became a newsie at the age of eight, it was right after Brenton had died. From the complications of his various sicknesses. Me and Trent couldnÕt stand the idea of the neighborhood, of our apartment, of never being able to come home to tell Brenton about what had happened that day. So we ran away from the home that we loved, that loved us. Because of a million reasons. We couldnÕt stand to see the pain in MommaÕs face. Because Dad was broken hearted from loosing Brenton and couldnÕt work any more. Because even at the ages of 8 and 6 (and a half) we knew MommaÕs salary from her job as a laundress couldnÕt support the four of us. And we didnÕt want to go to the poor house, we didnÕt want to live on the streets, but most of all we didnÕt want to go to the refuge. And that was before Snyder ran it, before it became REALLY bad.   
  
But my Dad, and my big little brother Brenton, they tought me lessons I wouldnÕt trade for anything. Brenton was a little writer. I still carry one of his letter stories he wrote me. ItÕs in my wallet. He is the one who inspired me to reach beyond being a newsie, to become the New York SunÕs Ace War Correspondent. WhoÕda thought that a poor boy from the slums could become the New York SunÕs Ace War Correspondent? My Dad and Brenton taught me to fight for the little guy. Daddy used to always tell us the story of David and Goliath. When I learned Mr. JacobÕs name at the beginning of the strike, the story, and the nights by DaddyÕs chair came flooding back to me. Along with all the comparisons. My daddy taught me to be honest. He taught me that the right fight will rarely be the easy one. He is the reason, along with Brenton and his fight against himself, that caused me to throw my lot in with the Newsies in 1899.  
  
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So whoÕs story is coming next? When you review please give me some ideas. LadyPolly 


	8. Jecca Conlon (Really is a Conlon)

Woohoo to Rae for actually reading and reviewing this fic.. And contributing... This chapter is hers. I lay no claim to it, the Newsies or anything else owned by Disney... And if ya donÕt review.. weÕll soak yas with fried oranges... hehe  
  
  
There's not a lot that I could say about my pop. He and my mother weren't married. Actually he had a wife while he was with my mother. I don't know the whole story but from what Spot and Fast told me...Spot, Fast, Tyrant and I have the same pop, but Spot has a different mother: the woman the Pop was married to. She died about two years before I was born I think. About three weeks after Tyrant and I were born our mother took the two of us and ran. Fast had already left by this point. A couple of days after our mother left she was found dead in an alley, but the bulls never found out what happened to Tyrant and I.  
  
I don't remember anything about the seven years before I became a newsie other than the fact that I was shoved off from one family to the next. Unlike Tyrant I was never in an orphanage. I remember waking up in the bunkroom of the lodging house and seeing Spot and Jack standing there looking at me. Jack was the one who first called me "Doll". It is my nickname, but most of the newsies tend to stick to calling me by my real name. I remember the day I first met the rest of the newsies, nearly a week after I became one of them. I got into a fight with Snipes and I was so angry that the only person who could get through my anger to calm me down was Spot. It was that day that I was given the last name Conlon, none of us knowing that I was really a Conlon. That was the name that Spot began calling me by his pet name for me. The only people who I will allow to call me "Jecca" now is Spot, Simone and their children. But back to the original point. From that day on, I thought of Spot as the father that I had never known.  
  
Little did we know that two years later so many things would change. The first major event was a big shock to all of us in Manhattan. Spot got married. None of us were expecting it and didn't even realize that he was seriously dating someone. He had just broken up with Amy and they had been pretty seriously dating, but we didn't know that he had found someone else. It was a great shock for me to come running into his apartment and seeing a girl sitting on the ottoman. My ottoman. Spot later introduced her to me as his wife. I was pretty shocked, but it didn't seem to even bother Jack who had come with me to Brooklyn that day. A few weeks later I was at their apartment again, only this time Jack had taken me there because I had gotten into another fight with Snipes. They invited me to live with them and I accepted, but first they were going to stay in Manhattan while Kloppman went out of town for a while.  
  
While we were there I almost got into a fight with Snipes, but Spot stopped him before he could hit me. They went up to the roof and when they came down I could tell that Spot's face was beginning to bruise. He had allowed Snipes to hit him instead of hitting me. At the school that I was sent to a couple of years later they taught us a lotabout the Bible and one day as they were teaching us the story really hit home. You see, God sent His Son here to earth to die on the cross and take the punishment for our sins. As I heard this I remembered that night and saw how Spot had taken my place. I should have been the one that with the bruised face, not Spot. Jesus says in the Bible, "Greater love has no one than this, that a man lay down his life for a friend." Spot may not have put his life on the line for me that night, but he showed me that he was willing to do so.  
  
On the night we returned to Brooklyn I fell asleep at the table and Spot carried me to my bed. I wasn't fully asleep, but not fully awake either, and I heard him talking to Simone in the doorway of my room. I heard Spot say, "It may sound strange but I love her like she was my own." He loved me as if I was his daughter. I cried silent tears of happiness as I fell into a deep slumber.  
  
The next four of five months were difficult. Spot overreacted about something and moved back in to the Brooklyn lodging house, a place that he hadn't lived in for nearly two years. He refused to allow Snipes and I to sell papes and didn't even come see us for four months. Once he did come back things were rough between us. I didn't think I could trust him again, but he finally proved to me that he really did love me and that I could trust him again.  
  
Eight months after Snipes and I had come to live with Spot and Simone our world was once again turned upside down. I had hit my head the day that Anne and Gil were born and two days later I woke up blind. I remember sitting in my bed yelling for Spot and then him coming and holding me as I cried. Something I've never told anyone, not even Spot, is that I know he cried with me that morning. I could feel his tears dropping onto my hair. If it had not been for Spot and the Stranger I would have given up. Spot taught me perserverence. Keep going even though the road is tough. He said that that is what helped him after his mother died.  
  
Even though we later found out that Spot and I are really brother and sister, I still consider him my father. He has taught me about life, love, trust, perserverence, and just being myself. That last thing was the hardest to learn. After I woke up blind I felt that I had to rely on everyone around me to do everything for me. Spot had to remind me of the independent and stubborn girl that I had once been. I still have to have someone guide me around new places and when I'm outside, but if need be I could live by myself and not worry about burning the building down or other such horrid things. Spot also taught me that a few kind words go a lot farther than a fist. 


	9. NEWSFLASH

NEWSIE NEWS FLASH   
  
From the friends of the author:  
  
The author of this fanfic is being a stubborn child (even though she is an adult) and refusing to write more unless her demands of more reviews from the readers have been met. In the mean time she will sit on her lazy bum and twiddle her thumbs waiting for her reviews, perhaps writing for herself, and readers who regularly review her story.  
  
Thank you in advance for your reviews, and for not making us fry any more oranges,  
The friends of the author. 


	10. Pie Eater

Authors Note: Sorry it has taken like three years (not literally, of course) for this to get typed as it has been sitting written on my desk for a month and school keeps taking over my life. any ways I*m almost done. And my bestest friend in the whole wide world is going to the same school as me next year woohoo!! WeÕre going to try to get to stay in the same suite and share a bathroom and all that jazz! Only 7 more days at this school, then at least four more years in college... woohoo! Lets not forget about the two more AP tests (American History and English Language, Lucky Me!), and the five finals... well four if you don*t count gym (and I do NOT count it) Okay enough about me lets listen to Pie-Eater!  
  
  
Hmm... where to start? IÕm known among the newsies and newsie friends as Pie-Eater. Mein vater gave me that name. IÕve always loved eattin* pie, me dad made it for me, one pie everyday, and I did not even have to share! Vater and I came from the Netherlands (A/N: I love the Netherlands, one of my camp ÒsistersÓ came from there and I wanna go see the country someday!!) and his father taught him about making pastries and pies and his father taught him and his father taught him and so on for centuries back (I think centuries anyway).   
  
I was seven the summer we left the Netherlands. We came over on a boat, me and Vater. At least it was me and Vater when we left. We were traveling in steerage because we were so poor and running from the debtors.   
  
When we were almost to America, to Ellis Island when Vater got sick. Very sick. He died not long after we arrived. I was alone until the newsies of Harlem took me in, and made me one of them.  
  
Even though I was young, Vater had taught me what seemed to be all he knew about baking. It is a well known fact that us Harlem boys are the best fed newsies in the whole city. I usually don*t sell the evening edition because I spend the time while the boys are selling cooking for them. I make rolls, just like Vater*s, and make meals for them, too. I cook biscuits and gravy and bagels and croissants and danish all for breakfast (but I bake them the night before). Vater taught me how to make all of these before I was seven, before we left the old country, and it will be how I earn my living when I can*t be a newsie anymore. But I*ll always feed my Harlem boys.  
  
~ Pie Eater  
  
  
Okay you guys! IÕve warned you before, no more story unless ya review... and I get another voice... Perhaps some ideas of who needs to talk about their father (or possibly their experience(s) as a father). And whoever doesnÕt review... I know who you are and I will retaliate with some fried oranges... My fryer is gettin* heated up for that express purpose! 


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